


The Running of the Deer

by Daegaer



Category: Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
Genre: Gen, Yuletide, challenge:Yuletide 2005
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-25
Updated: 2005-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-05 16:48:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/408721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur wishes Ford wouldn't invite himself along to <i>everything</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Running of the Deer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rheanna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rheanna/gifts).



> Thank you to my beta, Louise Lux!

 

 

"Arthur," Ford said urgently. "I'm broke. Can you get my round? I'll pay you back sometime."

"You're always broke," Arthur grumbled, obediently getting another round in. He wasn't sure why Ford was at the stag-night anyway, seeing as he was the only person there Ford actually knew. It had made perfect sense earlier, when Ford had looked at him intently and asked to come, but now it seemed rather odd. Many things about Ford did. Oddest of all was the fact that _Ford_ was sleeping in the bed at the B &B and Arthur was sleeping on the floor, despite _Arthur_ being the one who had booked it and paid for it, and Ford just being the one who'd jumped on the train that morning with a cheery grin and an inquiry as to where they were going.

"That's the theatre for you," Ford said cheerfully. He drained half of his pint in one go and then turned his attention to Arthur's pack of ready-salted crisps. "What a lie," he muttered. "There's hardly any salt at all."

Arthur sighed. Every time he saw Ford he ended up buying the drink. Except that one time Ford had given him a pint of milk, but he was pretty sure it had been stolen from someone's doorstep and so it didn't count, besides which, who in their right mind drank _milk_ in a _pub_? Beside him, Ford took a battered and war-torn sandwich out of his satchel and started to eat.

"Ford!" Arthur hissed, trying to stop his other friends from noticing. "They don't like people to eat food they haven't bought here! And we're going to get a curry later!"

"They only sell peanuts and crisps," Ford said indistinctly. "Which I can't afford anyway. And if I eat this now I won't be so hungry later, and you'll only have to buy me something small to eat."

Arthur noticed the sandwich appeared to have a bootprint on it, and decided it was probably best if he didn't sarcastically ask how Ford could have afforded _it_. Ford tended to have an unfortunate habit of answering that sort of question literally, especially when he was meeting new people. He was definitely looking more down-at-heel than usual, Arthur thought.

"You should find a job," he said.

"I tried for a part a year - er, a week ago," Ford said. "Didn't get it," he shrugged.

"No, I mean a _job_. Something other than acting."

"I can't do that," Ford said cheerfully. "The theatre's in my blood, baby."

"There's no point in starving," Arthur said. "Can't you do something to tide you over? Till you get a part?"

"I suppose I could take up more than petty larceny," Ford said, chewing the rather antiqued and distressed slice of ham from his sandwich. "Armed robbery seems quite profitable too. I think I might be good at that. Where could I get a cheap gun, Arthur?"

"You're not going to take this seriously. Fine," Arthur said. "But you needn't think I'm going to buy you an endless supply of alcohol."

"I don't think any such thing, Arthur!" Ford said quickly. "I hope you don't think I'm taking you for granted!"

"No," Arthur said politely, although it grated. "Of course not."

"Oh, good," Ford said casually. "It'd be annoying if you did think that. Oh. I'm out again, Arthur? I don't suppose --?"

Arthur sighed heavily and made his way back to the bar.

* * *

The stag night was not an unqualified success.

The trouble started in an innocuous manner, with Ford suddenly interrupting an important debate on the exact length of the barmaid's legs with queries as to why it was called a "stag" night.

"Is it because the bride and her gang hunt you down tomorrow and tear your living flesh from your bones in Dionysiac ecstasy?" Ford asked happily.

"Er," the groom said, clearly thinking of his blushing bride who, while it was generally agreed was a lovely girl, was not exactly possessed of the sort of physique that allows one to chase deer across mountainsides.

"Or is it that your proud life of freedom to impregnate as many young does as you can is now over and you can perform stud duty for only one female - or is the whole "marriage" thing to be taken as symbolic castration?" Ford went on, looking like he'd hit on a theory he'd be quite happy to expound on at some length. "Hold on, I should make a note of that, that's just the sort of arty-farty pseudo-intellectual rubbish my editor, er, my director loves --"

"Ford," Arthur muttered. "Shut up, would you. Especially about impregnating other does."

"Why?" Ford said, scribbling on a napkin, apparently oblivious to the increasingly hostile glares from the others. " _Oh_. Right. This is the friend who had it away with the girl in the chip shop, is it?" He beamed at the rather alarmed-looking groom. "That's one of Arthur's best stories."

"What girl in what chip shop?" the bride's brother asked. He looked like he wouldn't be running up any hillsides in pursuit of an errant stag any time soon, but, as Arthur quickly realised they were (a) not on a hillside, not forgetting that, (b) the groom was too drunk to make a graceful exit, and of course, that, (c) the suspicious soon-to-be-a-brother-in-law could quite easily kill anyone else in the pub merely by sitting on them.

"Ford!" Arthur said through gritted teeth. "Seriously. Shut up!"

"No, Ford," the hefty brother said with horrible forced jollity. "Please, do go on. I like hearing about Brian's friends."

"Look, who the hell _are_ you, anyway?" the groom said in desperation. "I didn't ask you along tonight. I've never even seen you before in my life. Honestly, Joe, I haven't the foggiest what this idiot's talking about." He looked round for support. "Has _anyone_ other than Arthur met this chap before?"

One by one they all shook their heads. Arthur felt very guilty at the accusatory look he got from Brian.

"I -- er," Arthur said.

"Why the hell are you at my stag night?" Brian asked Ford.

"There's a leak in the flat above mine," Ford said. "And I got a bit depressed looking at the water running down the walls. I thought an outing would do me the world of good."

Arthur buried his face in his hands.

"I think you should go now," Brian said stiffly. "Good _bye_ , Ford."

"Arthur?" Ford said. "Should I go?"

" _Yes_ ," Arthur said in fury. "Go! Go on! My _God_ , Ford, you never know when to shut up, do you?"

Ford looked very sad, and a bit hurt. Arthur wondered if he'd been a bit harsh.

"Arthur?" Ford said hesitantly.

"What is it?" Arthur asked, deciding he'd do his best to get the others to accept Ford's apology.

"Can I borrow a tenner?"

"Get! _Out!_ " Arthur shrieked.

Ford got.

"He's a funny chap," Arthur said, in the kind of tone that was meant to indicate that he couldn't possibly be held responsible for any actions that followed on paying serious attention to Ford.

"Yes. Funny," Brian said grimly, keeping at eye on his brother-in-law-to-be. "We're all splitting our sides."

Arthur smiled weakly.

* * *

Ford _was_ a funny chap, Arthur thought as he wandered back to the B &B in the early hours of the morning. He'd turn up and hang around for ages, then be gone for ages, returning with very stupid stories and claiming to have hitchhiked to the most ridiculous places. He was infuriating and clingy when he wanted something, and strangely stand-offish when Arthur laughed at his obsession with spaceships. He also had no sense of tact, proportion or decency, as his performance in the pub had proved yet again. At least he'd finally taken the hint and left. No doubt he'd turn up when he wanted a drink, Arthur thought sourly.

"Hey, mate," a man said, stepping away from a wall. "Can you give me the time?"

"It's -- 4.35," Arthur said, pressing the button on his digital watch that made the little light come on.

"Thanks," the man said, producing a knife. "Now, can you give me your wallet?"

"Bugger," Arthur said.

"I'll take the watch too," the man said. "I've always wanted one of them."

It was approximately at this point that Ford jumped in from outside Arthur's field of vision, right on top of the mugger.

Arthur found this quite surprising, as Ford tended to move quickly only in the direction of free drink. He found Ford's rather aggressive growl also to be quite surprising, though - when he thought back on it later - he had to admit the bit where Ford lifted the man off his feet and slammed him against the wall to knock him out was probably the most surprising thing of all.

"Morning, Arthur!" Ford said cheerfully, rifling through the unconscious mugger's pockets.

"What are you _doing?_ " Arthur shrieked.

"You're the one who suggested I should get a job," Ford said. "See? I was right that I'd be good at robbery. Oh, look! There's a hundred quid in here. Why do they say crime doesn't pay, Arthur? This fellow seems to be doing all right."

"You can't just rob him!" Arthur hissed, looking round frantically.

"Why not?" Ford said in puzzlement. "He was going to rob you. Why don't you tell yourself I was heroically coming to a friend's aid in his time of need, if that makes you feel better?"

It did, Arthur was rather worried to find. There were other worrying things that occurred to him as well.

"Did you try to _claw_ him?" he asked suspiciously.

" . . . no," Ford said. "What an odd thing to say, Arthur. Why would anyone do such a thing? It's not as if anyone here is from a species that evolved from some sort of fast moving carnivore. No, we're all ape descendants here." He smiled winningly and intently at Arthur, who found his eyes start to water, as usual.

"Where did you learn to fight like that?" Arthur said.

"The mean streets of Guildford," Ford said.

"The mean streets of _Guildford_?"

"Or maybe Woking. Look, Arthur, why don't I buy you breakfast later? We're going to sleep right through the breakfast at the B&B, you know," Ford said. " _And_ I can pay you back now."

"Oh, all right," Arthur said. "But you have to give up your life of crime, Ford."

"All right," Ford said. "It's a bit too strenuous for me, anyhow. You've saved me from myself. Congratulations, Arthur!"

They strolled off, leaving the mugger on the path, now groaning slightly.

"So where _did_ you learn to fight like that?" Arthur said.

"Oh, an order of psionic monks out there," Ford said, waving an arm in the general direction of the sky. "You should _see_ the sexual techniques they teach the novitiates, purely so they can renounce them."

"Er, no thanks," Arthur said. "Psionic monks, well well. I never knew Guildford was so . . . diverse."

"Oh, my hometown contains many marvels, Arthur," Ford said, grinning more insanely than ever. "One of these days I must show you some of its high points."

"That shouldn't take long," Arthur said.

"You'd be surprised. You'd definitely be surprised," Ford laughed. "Come on, let's get some sleep, and then I'm buying you the biggest, unhealthiest breakfast I can find."

Laughing cheerfully they walked off into the gradually brightening dawn. Visions of sleep and food played happily in Arthur's mind, and he found he no longer cared that Ford was so odd and so terminally tactless. Eccentric or not, he thought, Ford was a good friend, and that was what counted.

 

 

 


End file.
